Marked
by Mortal Instrument
Summary: Natasha and Clint are on a mission in Austria. They have killed their mark, but Coulson informs them that he was just a decoy. Now they're trying to find their actual mark. Little bit of BlackHawk


"Why the hell do I need to wear this?" Clint complained.

"It's called a party. I hope you can dance" Natasha replied sarcastically, rolling her eyes.

"What?!" Clint whirled around, "_NO ONE_ said _anything_ about dancing!"

"Oh, stop" Natasha snapped, and moved forward to straighten Clint's bowtie.

"Where's your outfit?" he asked, squirming uncomfortably and readjusting his collar.

"In the bathroom. I'll be out in a minute" she called over her shoulder.

Twenty minutes later, Clint was knocking on the bathroom door.

"Nat, you ready yet?"

Natasha jerked the bathroom door open, "were you peeking through the keyhole?" she demanded.

"Whoa…" Clint couldn't help but stare at a very different Natasha Romanov. Coulson had supplied Clint with a tuxedo, but apparently he had good taste in women's clothes as well.

Natasha was dressed in a low-cut black gown that dipped down in the back. Her hair was pinned up in a simple knot secured with faux diamond pins. The dress shimmered in the low light of the hotel room as she glared at Clint.

"Nooo…just saw-" he stopped as Natasha stepped threateningly towards him.

"Relax Nat. It's called a joke. I'm joking" he hurriedly replied, wondering how she could look so devastatingly beautiful, yet threatening at the same time.

She glared and stalked out of the room, with Clint following and grinning like a naughty schoolboy. She refused to look or speak to him the entire elevator ride. As they stepped out of the elevator on the main level, Natasha threaded her arm through a surprised Clint's, and smiled seductively up at him.

"So I hope this means you've forgiven me," Clint murmured, his breath tickling her ear.

"Not in the least, but try to look like you're enjoying yourself," Natasha responded, still smiling sweetly. As they reached the ballroom, she slipped away from Clint and towards their mark. Clint wandered around, acting nonchalant and all the while keeping a close watch on Natasha as she flirted with and seduced their target.

"Hey Coulson, can I eat?" he murmured.

"Clint…"

"Fine…God" he muttered, looking around him.

"What?" came Natasha's worried voice through his earpiece.

"Nothing…it's just…wow." Clint glanced around him again. The ballroom was lavishly decorated in a color scheme of black, gold, and silver. There were fountains spouting illuminated-gold water, dancers dressed in glittering costumes, and of course the guests in million-dollar dresses and tuxes.

Directing his attention back to Natasha, Clint watched as she slid her arm through the mark's with the same practiced ease as she did with Clint. Just as they left, she glanced back, her gaze instantly flashing to Clint. He smirked, and calmly strolled out of the ballroom, unobtrusively following Nat.

By the time Clint reached hotel room 405, their mark was already dead and Natasha was just closing the door to the room. Her hair had come unpinned and she looked more like an assassin than a guest to a New Year's Eve party.

"Wow Nat, thought he was _our_ mission" Clint remarked, smirking.

"You were too slow" she said, flipping her long, curly red hair over her shoulder.

"Guys?" Coulson's voice came through their earpieces.

"Yeah?" Clint responded, checking his watch "hey Coulson, happy new year!"

"There's a problem. That mark? He wasn't actually your mark, just a decoy."

"What do you mean?" Natasha asked.

"He's not your mark. I've just gotten new information on your actual target. He's three blocks from you and traveling east."

Natasha exchanged a glance with Clint and both sprinted to the car park, sliding into their expensive sports car SHIELD had provided them with. Clint couldn't help but sneak a glance as Natasha changed out of her dress in the car.

"Uh, Coulson? Where exactly is he?" Clint asked.

**Disclaimer:**** I don't own the Avengers**

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